


Merry Meet Again; love in the time of Salem

by pawprints_on_the_moon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, Clextober20, F/F, Halloween, Salem Witch Trials, Sharing a Bed, Witches and Wishes, witch hunter!Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawprints_on_the_moon/pseuds/pawprints_on_the_moon
Summary: On a stormy night in October of 1692, Lexa's horse bucked her off and onto the cold and muddy ground. Though she attempted to walk the rest of the way to Salem, she soon fell unconscious. When she awoke she found herself dry and warm and being tended to by an angel... or was this strange woman a demon?Written for Clextober on Tumblr.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	Merry Meet Again; love in the time of Salem

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I did very little actual research on the Salem Witch Trials and that this fic will be unapologetically littered with historical inaccuracies. Also know that I spiritually identify as a sexy witch and so I approach the topic with respect, levity, and some irreverence.

Late October, 1692 found Massachusetts drenched in rain, with lightning reflecting on decaying leaves. Lexa K. Tricruton found herself bruised and muddy after her mare, spooked by the thunder, had bucked her to the ground before running off into the night. The horse would be able to find her way to Lexa’s stables in Salem and Lexa was not lost either. Her house was less than five miles north and though the rain was icy, it was not ice. Certainly she had faced worse. 

That was what she told herself before falling to the ground ten minutes later, her vision going black. 

When her eyes opened, the once roaring sound of thunder was muffled and she was no longer wet. Candlelight glowed against wooden walls as she eased into consciousness. Despite unfamiliar surroundings, the smell of woodsmoke and something sweet calmed her as she sat up. Though her body ached, her bones were warmed and she could not feel fear while she looked around. She was in a small cottage -a comfortable hut really. A chimney filled the middle of the room and furs and dried herbs hung from the rafters. There was no staircase and only one door. Looking down she realized she was on a small bed, the only one in the one room home. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The voice belonged to the most beautiful woman Lexa had ever seen. “You had me quite concerned. Had you been unconscious any longer… but there’s nothing to worry about. Here, drink this.”

Lexa could only stare as the blonde woman held out a ladle full of steaming liquid. She was no less than angelic and her blue eyes left Lexa struggling for breath.

“If I was going to poison you I would have just left you out in the storm,” the angel said, clearly mistaking Lexa’s speechlessness for mistrust. “Would’ve saved myself some trouble. Now drink up. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

“Who are you?” Lexa asked. She knew everyone in Salem and the surrounding countryside, and there was no way she could have missed a woman like this.

“My name is Clarke,” said the woman. She lifted the ladle once more. “Please.”

The smell was pleasant and the angel called Clarke did not seem to bear her any ill will. Lexa parted her lips and allowed Clarke to pour the sweet liquid into her mouth. It was just cooled enough to not burn her tongue and tasted sweet; like apples, cinnamon, and something strange that Lexa could not place. Absolutely delicious. Instantaneously Lexa’s headache subsided and she felt her bruises fade. Looking at her hands she saw the mud and scrapes were gone.

“What is that? The flavor is not unpleasant.”

“Oh, just a little brew,” Clarke said, turning away to fuss with the fire. “My own recipe.”

“Pray, tell me what is in it?”

“Well I can’t be giving away my secrets, can I?” Clarke’s tone was teasing and Lexa felt her lips twitch up at the corners. Now that she was feeling better, she really ought to be going. This woman was unknown, and though she seemed benevolent it was unwise to trust strangers in such times as these.

“Thank you, Clarke. I suppose I ought to be on my way,” said Lexa. She looked out one of the small diamond shaped windows to see that the storm still raged. A particularly loud thunder shook the cottage and almost covered the loveliest laugh Lexa had ever heard. 

“And what, walk through the freezing cold into town? Absolutely not.” There was something stern about Clarke that told Lexa there was absolutely no way on heaven or earth that she would be allowed back out into the storm. Admittedly this was all very well, as Lexa didn’t have much desire to leave the warmth and this beautiful woman’s presence. Clarke stirred the pot over the fire and hummed a little tune, giving Lexa an opportunity to hide her smile.

“How did you find me?” Lexa asked, accepting that she would stay until the storm died or the sun rose. “Why on earth would you be out on a night like this?”

“Oh, I just had an inkling I might be needed,” Clarke replied, clearing what looked like playing cards and chicken bones off the table and replacing them with the steaming iron pot. “Sometimes I get a feeling about these things. Woman’s intuition I suppose.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes and didn’t respond immediately. Clarke’s explanation was suspicious, but she knew better than to look a gift-horse in the mouth. She accepted another sip of the delicious brew.

“And what were you doing, riding at night through a storm?” asked Clarke.

“I was in Boston avenging a young couple for a witch who had killed all of their livestock. I thought I would be home before the storm hit, but clearly I was too optimistic.”

Clarke only nodded to acknowledge Lexa’s explanation. She changed the topic and said, “I believe you were concussed from being bucked off your horse.”

“But I recovered so quickly?” One of Lexa’s witch-hunters had suffered a concussion the week previous and he had been useless for days.

“It seems so.” Clarke smiled. “Do you feel better?”

Lexa nodded, unsure how such a speedy recovery was possible. Certainly Clarke was mistaken and she had not suffered such a head injury. There was not a trace of pain pulsing in her skull.

“All the same, you ought to lie back down. A good night’s sleep is always the best cure, for I think you may have suffered quite a chill out there as well.” As Clarke said this, Lexa’s body responded to the suggestion. Feeling heavy, she wanted little more than to fall back to sleep but her senses and manners were in good order so she stood up.

“I will sleep on the floor,” she said. Clarke just laughed and took a step toward her. 

“You most certainly will not.” Clarke all but pushed her back onto the bed. “You are still recovering and besides, you are my guest.”

When Lexa sat back onto the bed, she was breathless again at the angel’s close proximity. They were so close now, that Lexa had to crane her neck up to look Clarke in the eye and had to resist looking at the bosom that was at her natural line of sight. She could smell the wood smoke and spices that lingered on Clarke’s bodice.

“You don’t even know me,” said Lexa with constricted lungs. “To give a stranger your home, your bed… I could steal from you in the night.”

“I have nothing worth stealing,” Clarke said, looking down at Lexa fondly. “Besides, you are no stranger, Lexa K Tricruton. The Commander, they call you. You must know that you are the most famous witch hunter in the New World. You are far too noble to be a thief, and have quite an infamous reputation for demanding justice. I know that you are lawful even to the point of cruelty.”

“Justice is not cruel. It is the witch-hunter’s way.” Lexa’s eagerness to contradict Clarke almost made her miss the inexplicable fact that Clarke had recognized her face. She could not recall sitting for any portraits and this woman must be new to the area. Again, Lexa ignored her suspicions as to not offend her gracious host.

“Yes, so I have heard. Blood must have blood.” Clarke nodded. “And yet, I am not sure that a woman’s blood equates to the blood of livestock.” 

“When a farmer loses his livestock he loses his livelihood. This puts his life in danger.”

“There are some good people who question the efficacy of the trials,” Clarke continued. Her manner was mild as she ignored the explanation about livestock’s blood value.

“What people?”

“I could not say,” Clarke raised an eyebrow at Lexa and she realized that perhaps it was the blonde angel’s turn to be suspicious. “These good pilgrims would be unwise to express descent or opposition to the church.”

Lexa took this as a cue to apologize: “I do not mean to accuse you or your good people, Clarke. I greatly appreciate your generosity tonight.”

“Think nothing of it.” Clarke still seemed bothered though, and it stung. She must have sensed Lexa’s hurt however, because she immediately softened. Her delicate hand raised to gently stroke Lexa’s cheek, sending delightful shivers down Lexa’s spine. “You are simply showing your ability to be a brave hero to some and a formidable threat to others.”

_ ‘A hero to a Godly man and a threat to a witch,’  _ Lexa thought to herself. 

“I can tell there is great depth to your character,” Clarke continued. “I like it.” 

Lexa’s mouth was dry and she lowered her eyes unable to stand the intensity of Clarke’s enchanting blue gaze.

“Interesting people are often contradictory,” continued Clarke, taking a step back, “and I have a sense that you are more so than most.”

“A woman’s intuition again?” Lexa suggested with a hesitant smile.

“Yes,” Clarke said with a laugh, “exactly. You are infamously brutal, having drowned many witches, and yet you are too noble to take my bed from me. I think you must be ruthless and forgiving; strong and yet soft.”

Lexa swallowed. Clarke was identifying truths that she herself tried to deny. It was uncanny.

“They say you spend your life fighting the Devil’s servants, but you redeem yourself of man’s original sin through committing the sin of murder.”

“You go too far, Clarke.” Lexa stood up quickly so that they were almost nose to nose. This strange woman accused her of murder but yet she ached to be closer to those accusing lips. Full of contradictions indeed.

“I apologize,” Clarke said. They both held their breath for a moment and Lexa was impressed that Clarke did not take another step back. In unison they exhaled and both sat down on the bed.

“Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing more to our people,” Clarke suggested. Lexa wondered briefly who Clarke’s people were if not her own. A grain of wisdom told her not to ask in case it was an answer she did not want to hear. “Someday we won’t live in such dangerous times as these.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you wish it?” The angel’s grin flashed with mischief.

“I might, if wishes weren’t for fools.”

They sat in silence for a beat.   
  


“So,” Lexa said, scanning the room for a patch of floor large enough to sprawl out on. “I will set myself up on the floor.”

“You will not. You will sleep in this bed.”

“I will not take your bed from you.” The fight was growing stale however, and Lexa was growing more and more drowsy. Neither of them spoke for a moment and Lexa felt heavy as if enchanted. The rain on the windows and the crackling fire were a lullaby and all she wished to do was to fall onto the feather filled bed. Gravity won and Lexa was horizontal with her head on Clarke’s pillow. She spoke again as her eyelids started to close. “I wish you wouldn’t be too kind to sleep in your own bed.”

“Oh Lexa,” she heard Clarke’s soft laugh, “you ought to know I can’t possibly say no to a wish.”

“Hmm, are you a fairy?” Lexa murmured as Clarke lay down next to her, pulling the quilt over them both. 

“Something like that.” Lexa could hear a smile in Clarke’s voice and let one spread onto her sleepy face as well. Before she could think another thought she was caught by slumber, her body inches away from Clarke’s on the tiny bed.

***

Loud purring woke Lexa the next morning and something four legged and agile was walking on her shoulders. Apparently Clarke had a cat. Resisting wakefulness she snuggled into the blankets and pressed against Clarke’s soft body that she held in her arms. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes into long strands of blonde hair that she startled and bolted upright. The black cat hissed and jumped up into the rafters, offended by Lexa’s sudden movements. 

How was it that she was cuddling with a stranger though she was usually guided by suspicion of all people? A strange angel who might even question the sanctity of Christ and the trials!

“Yes, your actions do sometimes contradict your beliefs, don’t they?” said Clarke as if reading Lexa’s mind. Lexa’s eyes narrowed as Clarke’s opened. The previous night had been like a dream, and yet here she was waking up to a reality in a strange and beautiful woman’s home.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Lexa said. “I am going back into town now.”

“Of course, I wish you well on your journey. Merry meet again.”

When Clarke said the word ‘journey,’ Lexa’s heart sank. It would be a nearly two hour hike back to town and witchhunter Titus wrote that he had urgent business to discuss. “I wish I still had my horse. ”

“Wish granted,” whispered Clarke, smiling gently from the bed. Her hair was mussed and her eyes glossy from sleep. Lexa frowned, sensing the same danger she had been wary of during last night’s controversial conversations. Her unease was not assuaged by the sight of her horse waiting for her outside of Clarke’s cottage.

***

When Lexa arrived back in the center of Salem she saw Titus waiting outside her large house, his wig powdered and his collar tight against the loose skin of his neck. Lexa had only time enough to tie up her horse before he began to speak to her.

“There is a new woman who lives near town. Led by the devil surely,” Titus said. “The dodgy woman never took a husband and Minister Jaha claims she has never attended a Sunday service. The deviant has a black cat and Miss Alie saw her speaking to her garden plants.”

“You suspect she is a witch?” 

“Without a doubt. The exact profile of a woman possessed by a demon. Incurable, I’m afraid.”

“Well,” Lexa considered the  _ efficacy of the trials, _ “we’ll have to do a test, of course. See if she floats.”

Titus nodded vigorously and Lexa felt a shiver run up her spine. Much less pleasant than the shivers Clarke had caused the night before. Though the sun shone, the Autumn air was cold. 

“I need a moment to settle in,” she told Titus. “Send for me when you’ve determined whether this woman is a witch or not.”

“Once she fails the test, you’ll determine whether to burn or hang her, then?” Titus checked as if Lexa didn’t alway end up having the last word.

“Yes, yes just come for my command,” Lexa agreed, eager to get inside. “It’s cold. I imagine a fire would help us all to rid ourselves of such a demon.”

He responded in agreement, and went on to tell Lexa about how the woman went against the Puritan code. Supposedly the witch’s coat was awkwardly torn in two places and young Charlotte had tragically fallen off a cliff. Lexa hardly needed more proof than this and she agreed that the people of Salem needed to see justice. 

After giving Titus clear instructions to follow the will of the Law and the Church, Lexa finally entered the safe silence of her home. Her house was too large for one person, and it was only her reputation as a witch-hunter that saved her from the question of why she was still unmarried. And why she owned far more candles than was strictly necessary. All of the New World knew she was a Godly woman.

If only Clarke’s warm cider waited inside her house. She needed a moment to herself, but if she was honest she would have preferred to lie in the bed of an angel once more. Alas, her respite was lonely and brief before she heard the angry crowds outside her house. With a lazy reluctance she left her house and walked toward the town square where her people flocked. As she passed, they stilled to look at her with awe. Their energy was contagious and Lexa’s heart pumped stronger as she looked out to address them.

“The witches have cast a shadow over this town for too long. They’ve haunted us and controlled us. They have instilled fear into our hearts. That ends today.” Lexa’s voice was loud and strong as it spoke these familiar words. Her people had heard them before, but they roared with the same vindication as their first witch trial. Lexa let their excitement fill her with righteous fury, until she looked up at the woman tied to the stake. 

Clarke. 

Blue eyes desperately pleaded with her and the flames flashed lights against her fair skin. Her blonde hair was frizzing from heat. 

Lexa oughtn’t have been surprised considering the obvious magic around the woman but still, it was a nightmare to see an angel tied on the stake like a demon. She had been suspicious the night before but denial was strong. Especially when one is under the charm of a witch. But… perhaps there was such a thing as a good witch? For her charms could not have been satanic.

“Lexa, please!” cried Clarke, voice rough. She coughed as smoke clouded around her beautiful face. “Please, help me.”

Lexa wanted nothing more than to help Clarke, yet her people called for justice. She needed to do what was best for them. Titus had said a young girl, Charlotte, had died. Blood must have blood. The people needed to see Clarke burn.

“Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.” Lexa’s voice carried as though God spoke through her. 

“Please, Lexa. I know you do not wish for me to burn!”

It was true, Lexa did not wish it. If only this was all pretend, that any moment Clarke could jump out of the fire and come to embrace her. She wished they lived in a different time, a different world, one where she was not a witch hunter, one where she was free. Lexa couldn’t declare such a desire out loud, but she could look into Clarke’s flame-lit eyes and try to communicate truth.

“I wish things were different,” she whispered.

Suddenly, Clarke’s panicked expression morphed into a wicked grin. 

Surely it was impossible that Clarke had heard Lexa’s wish above the noise of the fire and jeering crowd? Yet it must have been magic that blurred Lexa’s vision. The world spun around her, her vision went black, and time lost meaning for a second. Or a minute. Or an hour. Or several centuries.

***

The smell of wood smoke still filled the air around Lexa, but the crowd around her had stopped shouting for the witch to burn and had started chattering and laughing. There was the sound of an acoustic guitar playing a song that Lexa didn’t recognize at first. The style of the music was like none she had ever heard before. Though when slurring voices joined in she recognized it as “Wagon Wheel.”

Slender arms wrapped around her waist and soft lips pressed against her own. They tasted like apples, cinnamon, and something familiar that Lexa recognized immediately.

“Clarke?” Lexa opened her eyes to see an angel’s wicked grin.

“Happy Halloween, babe.” Clarke kissed her again and Lexa kissed back instinctively.

“Wait...” Lexa pulled back. Wasn’t Halloween Satan’s holiday? No, she remembered, it was about pumpkins and candy. “Halloween isn’t for another three days.”

“Yes, well this  _ is _ a Halloween party and it’s Halloweekend. I’ll wish you happy Halloween if I want to.”

Lexa didn’t respond. Her mind felt hazy but she started to remember arriving at the party with Anya and Lincoln before wandering off to find her girlfriend. Yes, that was right. Clarke had to come to the party late, after a med-school study session.

“Have a little too much witch’s brew there, Lex?”

“Witch’s brew?” Lexa looked down at the warm cup she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You’re a witch?”

“Well yeah! You, me, Raven, Amori, and Octavia? We’re dressed as a sexy coven.” Clarke was exasperated but smiling as her fingers intertwined with Lexa’s. With the other hand she gestured down to her skimpy black dress, orange fishnet tights, and up to the pointed black hat on her head. Then she rolled her eyes playfully. “Echo insisted on being a witch-hunter, plastic sword and everything. But she’s just weird that way, right?”

Lexa was speechless and, looking down at her girlfriend’s body, she felt an undeniable hunger. Absolutely nothing contradicted the desire she felt for this witchy woman. Only after she took a deep breath could she ask, “Aren’t you cold?”

Clarke giggled and pulled Lexa close again. “That’s what you’re here for. Wrap me up in that ridiculously large cloak of yours.”

Lexa looked down at her own costume and appreciated her pointy boots and vaguely magical pendant. Then, with a smile she pulled her girlfriend under her thick velvet cloak and together they shared a hot cup of whiskey-apple witch’s brew.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy October! Say hi :)


End file.
